


The Big Show

by Gleennui



Series: High Heat Snapshots [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Closeted Character, Fade to Black, Fraternization, M/M, Pinn Week, mentions of a bad fastball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Finn, the only thing better than being a rookie closer on a big league club is being able to do it across the division from Puck. This is a tiny glimpse into uncharted waters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Show

The first time the Royals and Twins play each other during the spring of 2018, half the thrill is in the secret. Or at least that’s what Finn tells himself with his back pressed against the inside of his hotel room door and Puck’s mouth on his neck. 

“Rule three-oh-nine.” Puck starts tugging at Finn’s jeans. “Players from opposing teams shall not fraternize.” 

Finn undoes his own button and zipper and tilts his head. “That’s only while we’re in uniform, dingus.” 

“We’re about to be in nothing, _dingus_.” Puck slides his hand into Finn’s split fly and curls his fingers, palm pressed perfectly. From years of practice, Finn thinks, and the heady thought of being here, with Puck, celebrating Finn’s first big-league save the way they've celebrated everything since they were 15, makes him almost dizzy. 

“Bed.” Puck’s teeth are on Finn’s earlobe and he’s hard against Finn’s leg and Finn is pretty damn sure that if he doesn't lie down, his legs might actually give out. He’s heard that big league trainers are discreet, but he doesn't want to be the rookie who comes down to breakfast with bruises on his knees and the other team’s second baseman waiting in his room. 

He gets them mostly on to the bed, with only a little bit of tripping, and before he can pull both of them onto the pillows, Puck’s kissing him hard, Finn’s feet still on the floor. It’s the first time they've kissed for real since spring training, and certainly the first time since he snuck Puck up into the team block of rooms after the game, walking probably way too far apart for best friends. 

It’s good; it’s _so_ good, and he’s got the back of Puck’s shirt wadded up in his fists before he realizes it. Puck’s making little growling noises and his teeth keep catching on Finn’s lip and for a minute Finn doesn't actually care who hears them. Six weeks is way too long. 

Puck pulls back, licking his lips, and Finn grins when he recognizes the satisfied smirk on Puck’s face. 

“Fraternization, you said?” Finn nudges his hips up and makes a face that he hopes looks innocent. “You think we’d get fined, or what?” 

Puck raises an eyebrow and pushes himself back and off the bed to kneel between Finn’s spread legs. 

“Nah, probably not,” Puck says, more to Finn’s open jeans than to Finn himself, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Finn’s boxers. “I’m pretty sure this one’s not in the rule book.” 

 

The second time, two weeks later, they’re better at it. They go out for barbeque first with Whitley and Gonzo and they take turns telling them stories about the Titans and glee and the time Puck spent the summer after seventh grade mowing Artie’s lawn because he lost a bet. Puck buys everyone drinks, because that’s what you do when you beat a team by seven runs, and by the time they leave the bar, no one notices when Finn pulls Puck into his cab. 

Finn’s apartment isn't huge, but it’s better than the Omaha Extended Stay America, and with Puck stumbling in and tossing his duffel on the couch, it almost feels like home. 

“Thank fuck for four-game series, right?” Puck groans, cracking his neck, and Finn just nods, because he knows exactly what Puck means. He grabs two Big Vics out of the fridge and by the time he has the tops off and comes back in the living room, Puck’s down to his boxers with Sportscenter on. 

“You really want to watch this?” Finn steps over Puck’s legs where they’re propped up on the coffee table and flops onto the couch, rubbing his spilled beer into the upholstery with his elbow. 

Puck grins at Finn and smacks him on the thigh. “‘s the matter, Huddy? Afraid they’ll show that cookie you threw me in the seventh?” 

“Fuck you, I am!” Finn shoves Puck with the hand not holding his beer, scowling at the tv like it’s responsible for his shitty fastball and then scowling harder when Puck just chuckles. 

“Yeah, all right. You’re the best. Unhittable. I promise. Rub out my quad?” Puck flings his legs onto Finn’s lap in what Finn thinks is probably an unnecessarily dramatic way, and sighs loudly. 

“You think anyone’s luckier than us?” 

Finn glances over. Puck is frowning, but in that way he gets when he’s turning an idea over in his head. 

“Probably the people with better fastballs tonight.” Finn shrugs, but then grins. “But not other than them, nope.” 

“Yeah, probably nobody else. Harder right there.” Puck flexes his muscle, and Finn digs in. 

They sit there without talking for a few minutes, Puck blowing across the top of his beer every once a while. 

“You think we’ll always get to do this?” Puck’s voice is low. Finn watches as Puck picks at the label on his bottle, collecting the pieces in a pile on his stomach. 

“I guess if we stay healthy. You know Cuddy loves your bat.” Finn works his fingers around a bruise. “And I guess my slider’s not so bad.” 

“Yeah…” Puck’s fingers are damp from condensation when they find Finn’s. “It’s not bad at all.”


End file.
